A Light in the Dark
by QueenPersephoneofHades
Summary: At the most critical moment, someone stops him from making the biggest mistake of his life. Words of wisdom from beyond the grave were all he'd asked for; but what this man has to say is the furthest thing from what he wants to hear.


"Let me help you."

The pain in that half-forgotten voice is almost enough to completely undo him then and there, nearly destroying the last resistance he has. The Light is _blinding_ in his presence, so free and hopeful and _loving,_ and he _does not want it, does not need it, does not crave this man's approval or affection or_ _ **love-**_

"I'm being torn apart," he whispers, dark eyes meeting solemn blue, a plea in both that neither can fulfill. He is _not_ weak. This _man_ – Han Solo, a smuggler, a criminal, once almost a _father_ – brings him weakness. Brings him to the brink of his power, and he _will not allow it-_

"Help me be free of this pain."

"Anything I can do-!"

Solo _wants_ to help him, more than anything else – at this moment, he does not care if the mission is successful, if the Resistance pilots can destroy the Starkiller base in time to save what little remains of the Republic and its people – he cares for _nothing_ other than bringing his lost little boy home.

And Kylo _hates_ him, _hates_ this man's bleak eyes and set shoulders, _hates_ his unwilling pain and burgeoning hope, _hates_ that he sees the weakness in Ren and tries to exploit it, use it, bring him back to the searing Light he so desperately tries to keep hating.

 _do or do not there is no try_

His hand rises, lightsaber held flat, and while most of him is _screaming_ in rage, denial, _hatred – we can't go back they are weakweakweak we are better we are stronger we are_ _ **Dark**_ – a small pinprick of something not quite Dark – something that's still _Ben_ – remains dominant, meeting his Father's wide, disbelieving eyes with his own, tears unshed making his vision distorted and bright.

 _kill me i can't win this fight dad stop me here please_

The Light still has a hold over him. He can't fight it, can't stop the siren song that's been luring him back since the day he fell, can't ignore the smile threatening to take over Solo's – _Father's_ – face as he hands over his greatest weapon-

The sputtering light of the sun fades away at last, casting the smuggler, himself, everything into shadow, the Darkness suddenly so thick it is palpable even to his Force-blind father; all goes still and silent, and suddenly everything is clear – _**silence**_ _the Light,_ _ **silence**_ _the heart,_ _ **silence**_ _the weakness of Ben Solo_ – it's _so easy._

Solo suspects nothing, does _nothing_ to defend himself, simply lifts a hand to take the lightsaber, _as if he'd ever give something so precious to him, to this pathetic weak-minded smuggler scum-_

His hand pulls back, the blade ignites, Solo's eyes widen in shock, a roar of fury echoes from the Wookie that constantly follows the man around like a bad odor-

 _it's easy, so easy, just push forward and all will finally end we will be rid of the Light we will be better we will be stronger we will be_ _ **free-**_

 _goodbye, father-_

A hand lands on his shoulder.

A presence appears directly behind him.

Every muscle in his body freezes into rock.

His eyes, locked onto the resigned visage of the man who raised him, widen in awe.

His finger slips off the trigger, casting everything back into the deepest of shadows as the sputtering crimson fizzles back into its hilt, sparing Solo its searing kiss.

Solo stumbles backward, one hand pressed to the sternum that very nearly had a flaming hole scorched into it, gasping low and fast for air that seems to have been sucked from his lungs.

Kylo watches him fall, watches him shake, watches him _breathe_ , not quite sure what-

 _i almost stopped that i almost stopped him breathing i almost stopped him living i almost stopped him going home to_ _ **mom-**_

He sucks in a breath, takes a step back, needs to _breathe_ -

 _he can't, can't breathe, can't think, can't do_ _ **anything**_

 _why can't he do this why can't he do anything right why is he still so_ _ **weak**_

 _ **why won't the Light leave me alone**_

The hand is still there. The presence is still there. He hasn't imagined either of them this time.

Shuddering like an earthquake, tears spilling over a cheek still warm with the careful touch of his Father's hand, Kylo tries to turn, to _move,_ to look away from the man he nearly killed – s _hould have killed, needs to_ _ **kill,**_ _ **wants to kill, destroy the Light embrace the Dark become what you were born to be-**_

"You asked for my help earlier."

The voice, loud like a thunderclap in the horrified deafness in his ears, sends him straight to his knees within a second, bringing him level with his Father's face once again. The modified lightsaber he so carefully crafted with his own two hands thuds against the metal of the catwalk with a dull sound, slipping from numb, uncaring fingers.

And Kylo can only stare at his _weakpatheticfoolishtrusting_ _ **loving**_ Father as the grip on his shoulder tightens and his trembling worsens because he _knows_ that voice he _knows_ this hand he _loves_ this man more than anything – more than Father more than Mother more than Uncle and all the others – has begged for his help a thousand times before but he's only here _now-_

 _now, when all Light was supposed to die by his hand_

 _when he was supposed to become strong_

 _when he was supposed to become Dark_

 _when he was supposed to make him_ _ **proud**_

His eyes slowly trail sideways, head turning inch by torturous inch until he catches sight of the pale, shimmering hand resting on his shoulder, brighter than the dead sun in the sky and hotter than the inactive saber at his side.

A single, solitary Light in the Dark.

"Grandfather," he rasps, and the hand is not crushing him, not burning him, not destroying him as he thought it would after he has failed him time after time-

It is gentle, careful, like the feel of an old friend finally coming home.

Kylo's breath wheezes into a joyful gasp as the beloved face he's seen only in old Clone War holos – the one he's searched for in the Mask for so long – appears, youthful and ageless and caring and severe all at once. Not anger – not _that_ – not sadness – not like Solo, gutting him with a simple look, as if he were no more than the youngling who stole a blaster and pretended to be a daring hero like his parents had been so long ago – not even hopeless hope is in those soulful blue eyes.

Just.

Blank, empty disappointment.

He nearly throws himself into the emptiness beneath, the depth of that blow wounds him so deeply.

 _what did i do wrong what can i do how can i be strong like you_ _ **please-**_

"Grandfather!" he whimpers again, hands lifting in pitiful supplication, desperate to appease the indifferent specter beside him like never before-

 _Supreme Leader so often berates him on his lack of motivation, but he will move moons, burn planets, obliterate entire systems if it will only make this man_ _ **happy**_ _-_

A flash of light, a stinging sensation on the cheek his Father had cradled so lovingly, a ringing in his ears-

It takes him a few seconds of dizzy comprehension to realize Grandfather had _slapped_ him.

" _Ben_ ," Grandfather hisses, scorching fury and bitter calm welded together into a blade so expertly wielded it is impossible to parry, "What are you _doing?_ "

Kylo _gapes._

He doesn't understand the question-

What? Grandfather should understand, better than anyone, what is happening here-

They are bringing peace, justice, security to the galaxy-

They are Order. They are Sith. They are finishing the fight where Luke thought he could destroy it, finishing the good work the Empire had done for so many-

Hands grab his shoulders, shaking him back and forth as if he were senseless. Father's face appears before him, age-worn voice shouting at him over the sound of furious blaster fire, his Stormtroopers having opened fire when they saw their leader fall to his knees like a chastised youngling. He hadn't even noticed the battle going on around him until now.

But Kylo rears backward, calling for his saber-

It's not there. It's gone. Where has it gone?

Ah, yes, it must have fallen off the catwalk in the commotion. That's a problem.

He only dimly registers his Father yanking him to his feet and yelling several colorful obscenities at his troops, barely twitches when everyone ceases firing and quiet once again reigns over them.

Through it all, he doesn't take his eyes off the hand that has slipped downward to tightly grip his wrist, a firm anchor that keeps him trapped in the present he truly wishes not to be a part of anymore.

 _why are you angry what did i do wrong i'm_ _ **sorry**_

"No you're not."

The stern tone makes him sob brokenly, free hand whipping up to yank helplessly at his hair, eyes fixed beseechingly on his Grandfather's unimpressed face hovering just beside him.

"I've failed you I failed the Empire I was too weak to kill him forgive me Grandfather I'll do it now I can fix it I can fix _everything_ -!" His babbling is nonsensical, loud and stuttering, the broken cadence of a madman, and Father is staring at him in open alarm even before he pulls loose a hank of hair and crooks his fingers, circling them into an easy position ready to crush into a fist, the lightest pressure settling around Solo's throat as Kylo's confused dismay hardens into intense malice once again.

The smuggler's choked gasps garner another roar from the Wookie – Chewbacca, who used to let him sit on his wooly shoulders when he felt too small and out of place amongst the Republic senators and pilots always hanging around his parents – and cries of outrage and distress from FN-2187 and the infernal Force-sensitive girl that resisted his interrogation.

A red blaster bolt flies past his head, just shy of a kill shot, and he's tempted to crush Solo _right here_ , in front of his pathetic little _friends,_ while they can do absolutely _nothing_ to stop it-

 _like a true Sith like a true_ _ **Skywalker**_ _would-_

-only before he can, another hand clamps around his other wrist, and suddenly he is being wrenched backward off his feet, his tenuous hold over Solo's life slipping away once again as he is thrown halfway across the walkway, landing with a loud clang that reverberates through the air like a cannon shot.

"STOP IT!" bellows Grandfather, thundering and irate, "THAT IS ENOUGH!"

Kylo is too stunned to protest, to gabber excuses and apologies and pleas for mercy he will not receive.

He can only lay there and _breathe_ and distantly wonder what happened to his Stormtroopers.

Hours later – or perhaps minutes; seconds? – he is blinking up into the glimmering radiance of a soul made of more Light than he has ever thought existed, a dear face he has sought after so desperately it nearly cost him what remained of his sanity.

"Grandfather."

It seems to be the only thing he can say now.

He struggles up on his elbows, casts wildly about for Solo and his merry band of fools, but the freezing ice in Anakin Skywalker's unearthly eyes slow his frantic movements into a standstill.

A fleeting moment stretches into eternity with neither man (boys, really; Kylo is so _so_ young and Anakin's true self died even younger) saying a word, and Kylo is sure he will die here, faced with the silent displeased judgement of the man he swore to emulate in every way, the lord whose teachings he swore to follow over that of the rest of his family, the god he pledged to serve for as many lifetimes as it took to restore true Order to the galaxy.

"Where have you been?" the question is barely a whisper, completely inaudible mere centimeters from him, yet Vader's eyebrow rises in clear comprehension of his words.

"Where have _I_ been?" the taller man parrots, staring at his progeny in open incredulity, "Right here beside you!"

A thrill of joy lances through Kylo's heart before he can stop it, and his wide, wondrous grin could almost be reminiscent of the child Ben Solo had been. "I _knew_ you didn't leave!" he cries, tears once again threatening to fall unchecked. "I just knew it! I couldn't see you after I left Uncle-!"

"After you _abandoned_ Luke and his teachings, yes, I remember," Vader corrects him waspishly, both eyebrows rising at Kylo's stunned look. "What, you think I didn't notice? You _cut off_ his prosthetic; that's usually the sort of thing a father notices when checking in on his son."

" _You_ cut his hand off in the first place!" Kylo snaps defensively, wary and uncertain; this reunion is not going the way he thought it would be, the way he always pictured it to be, the way he always _dreamed_ it to be-

 _the way he always_ _ **wanted**_ _it to be-_

The painful, haunted look that crosses Vader's face is there and gone so fast you could feasibly claim it was never there in the first place; Kylo knows better.

He always has. He knows his Grandfather better than _anyone._

He just doesn't know _why_ he would be in any pain. Uncle Luke – _Skywalker_ – had deserved the loss of such an important limb, had deserved all the agony he endured fighting against the Empire, fighting against _Vader._

He had resisted the Dark, and so had doomed himself to the same fate as the fallen Jedi Order Grandfather had eradicated in years gone by.

Vader's gaze hardens, and the rock-hard stare Kylo suddenly finds himself on the receiving end of is so overpowering he can feel himself being flattened into the metal even though no Force grip has a hold of him.

"We all make mistakes," Vader says softly, eyes losing some of their overwhelming intensity for a moment as sorrow permeates his entire aura. "Some more drastic than others. Some that rot our souls from the inside out. Some, we can never turn back from." Regret and earnest optimism, with a hint of bemused acceptance, slowly rekindle and intertwine within the unnaturally blue depths, his mouth quirking upward in a self-deprecating half smile. "You haven't fallen quite that far yet, you know."

"What?!" Kylo demands, aghast. That couldn't be right! He's done everything – _everything_ – within his power to relinquish the last holds the Light has on him, has renounced all ties to his family and his former name, has cast aside the teachings of the wretched and feeble Jedi and submerged himself in the Darkness until all memory of the Light is little more than clinging mist now, faint and incorporeal.

He is no longer of the Light, he's sure of it-

 _stop me end me i can't win this fight-_

"Silence!" he snarls aloud before he realizes the voice came from _inside_ him; the last vestiges of Ben, rising up once again in the presence of the man who inspired Kylo to become everything he is now.

Well, that just wouldn't do. It wouldn't do _at all._

He's half tempted to allow himself to be shot by Solo or one of his crew – pain is always the best way to block out Ben's insipid squawking – but the hand is suddenly back on his shoulder and he can't move again.

Vader kneels beside him, looking tired and sad and far too old for such a young face, everything he shouldn't be – he is one with the Force, finally at rest, and though his mission had initially failed he still accomplished so much in his life he should be _proud_ – and yet still so bright, a powerful radiance that drives away all the comforting shadows that usually lurk around Kylo.

"Ben," he says, ancient and wise and commanding, everything Kylo is not but so deeply wishes to be, "You don't _want_ to fall that far."

What.

Was this some sort of mind trick?

Had the girl, Rey or whomever, taken control of his mind in a last ditch effort to subdue him after killing Solo? Had Unc- _Skywalker_ shown up at some point to save the day again and used all his infinite Jedi wisdom to 'save' the newest Sith in the galaxy? Had he finally gone totally insane, as his mother often feared he would?

He blinks a few times, wracking his brain for every illusion dissolving technique he knows and performs them one by one with carefully honed accuracy. Nope.

As a last resort, he fruitlessly pulls a bit of skin on his face with two fingers in a rough pinch. Nothing.

Everything was the same. Not a mind trick.

Maybe he really _had_ gone insane…

The hand shakes him back and forth, and he refocuses on Vader's sympathetic but firm expression. "You're not insane, Ben." He explains flatly. "Not yet, anyway. The Dark Side tends to muddle things pretty badly up there, but you're not lost. Not like I was. That's why I was able to stop you from killing Han."

That startles him so badly he scrambles back a bit on his elbows, staring in abject uncertainty. "Why would you _stop me?!_ He carries my Light; he is my _weakness!_ I must destroy him before he pulls me back to that miserable existence! I can't go back to that, Vader!"

The shift from encouraging paternal gentleness to boiling tempest of rage is so abrupt it terrifies him beyond comprehension.

" _Do not call me by that name!_ " the half-snarl is menacing in its fiercely contained anger, the full brunt of his fury swirling through his aura so intimately it makes Kylo shiver in pure dread, before it suddenly, swiftly melts out of his presence and is released into the Force, a technique Kylo himself, in all his years learning under Uncle Luke, had never been adept at; according to stories, Grandfather had never been good at it either. It was never too late to learn, it seemed.

Kylo has to swallow – hard – before he can speak again. "That's your name," he points out.

" _No it isn't,_ " Vader rasps, anguished and terrified, his Light seeming to rapidly diminish as he draws into himself, as if seeking a protective shell. "I'm not _that_. I'm a _person_ and my name is _Anakin._ "

He repeats the last bit like a mantra, over and over, eyes fixed on a middle distance no one else can see, and for once Kylo can see something he'd never noticed with Uncle Luke before; becoming one with the Force did not mean you were as free as you should have been.

While this should probably frighten him to some degree, all he can really focus on is his Grandfather's apparent distress and his total lack of understanding for it. Vader _was_ his name – his _true_ name, the name of the Chosen One, the name under which he had conquered the galaxy and ruled as the greatest Sith in over a thousand years.

 _Anakin Skywalker_ had never done anything as impressive or important as that.

Several tense seconds tick by as Vad- _Grandfather_ visibly pulls himself together, anger and despair and _pain_ detaching from him and siphoning off into the Force instead of feeding the Darkness surrounding them. The Darkness, which has lurked around them patiently the entire time, does not enjoy being denied its favorite treat, slithering uncaringly past Kylo to coil around Anakin like an eager former lover, quick to seduce their prey back into its open arms.

Grandfather shudders, haunted memory and intense concentration coalescing on his face before a pulse of visible, luminescent Light bursts from him like an intense ray-shield to drive the Darkness away with an irritated hiss.

"I shouldn't be here," Grandfather breathes as the worst of it dissipates, one hand raised to clutch at his chest where his heart would be beating were he still alive, "The Darkness here is a miasma, I can't-"

"But that's good, isn't it?" Kylo asks, now so bewildered he can only clamber to his feet, clueless but still so anxious to help his true Master – the one he would gladly serve instead of Snoke any day. "This is the power you've been torn away from, the power Luke stole from you! Here you can be free once again, return to the anger you once were!"

But Grandfather shakes his head, broken and terrified, eyes so lost but still so strong, driving the Darkness around him away with only a look, leaving Kylo in open-mouthed amazement; the Darkness that ruled him heart and soul, that snipped his heartstrings one by one until he let go all attachments to Light as Grandfather had once done, was being easily driven aside with so little effort. He would claim it to be impossible, and yet it was happening before his very eyes.

If only he understood the intention behind such an action.

Why was Grandfather fighting the Darkness he had once called home?

All he can do is watch as the last tendrils of shadow slip away to the edges of their vicinity once again, beaten and bruised, but not going any farther than they must despite the Chosen One's will.

And as Kylo tracks the Darkness' retreat with his mind, his eyes are still locked onto Grandfather, who seems to resettle himself with relief now that the cloying evil has faded away a little.

"Ben," he begins again; only just now does Kylo realize he's been responding to his birth name instead of his chosen title. "I _am_ free. Here and now, in the Light, I am freer than I ever thought I was under the yoke of the Dark Side. I am happier than I ever was in life. And I _never_ want to return to the monster that I was."

He lifts one hand, as if he wished to reach forward and grasp his grandson's shoulder again; it wavers and falls back to his side before it can even raise halfway, fingers curled into a loose, troubled fist. Being denied even that brief contact is like a blow to the head.

"You weren't a monster-!" Kylo protests immediately.

"Yes I was," Grandfather whispers, brittle and small, a private, self-condemning confession.

But Kylo wasn't finished. "No you _weren't_!" he practically snarls, moves forward with one finger pointed accusingly at his idol's face as if he could demand every word he'd just said back into his mouth. "You created a galaxy worth living in! You ended the Clone Wars! You tore down the corrupt, failing Senate and its precious guard dog Jedi and replaced it with an Empire that actually _did something_ to help people instead of argue fruitlessly over money! You brought peace to a turbulent, divided galaxy; you brought justice down upon those responsible for the war and every other lawless brigand you could get your hands on; you brought security to hundreds of dying worlds on the brink of total annihilation! You saved trillions of people!"

"At the cost of _billions!_ " Grandfather shouts right back, azure flames igniting in his eyes in direct challenge to Kylo's words as he stomps directly in front of him; one inch closer, and the other's lifted finger would be stabbing directly into his nose. "Do you have any idea _how many_ people died under the Empire's rule?! How many I killed _personally?! For_ _ **no reason?!**_ "

"They were traitors-!"

"THEY WERE CHILDREN!" Grandfather roars, and Kylo stumbles backward a few steps again as the mounting pressure in the Force clashes against his shields with the power of a bursting supernova and nearly carries him over into a tidal wave of self-loathing despair. "They were small and insignificant and powerless and I _killed them_! I killed _all_ of them! Jedi younglings and Ryloth urchins and Toydarian toddlers! _Every last baby on Alderaan_ _ **dead**_ _in one second because of_ _ **me!**_ "

 _You didn't give the order!_ The feeble protest dies before it can even reach his lips because _oh-_

 _there had been babies on Hosnian Prime, hadn't there?_

The realization is like a sucker-punch to the stomach.

 _babies and toddlers and younglings and teenagers and people of all ages_

But, he fiercely reminds himself, that was fine, he'd known that from the beginning; he'd known since the first day of Starkiller's construction that innocents would likely end up dead in the crossfire of this war between the Order and the Republic, and that was all fine, they were unavoidable, acceptable losses-

 _a flash of scarlet light across a cascading sea of black stars_

 _chaos and confusion and no small amount of_ _ **fear**_

 _a hundred million voices he'd never noticed before screaming in unison before_

 _ **silence**_

-it was _fine,_ they had been with the Republican government, supported it despite its many flaws; they were all liars and traitors and fools too blind to see the true way the galaxy worked-

 _too blinded by the Light to see the potential within the Dark_

-they were not worthy to live in the peaceful, orderly universe he would create, according to the beliefs and teachings of his mentor and his Grandfather. His Grandfather, the great Sith Lord Darth Vader, who had brought about an era of change and renewal so vastly different from anything the Jedi had done in millennia that it still left the galaxy reeling thirty years after his death at the hands of his accursed son.

"You saved the galaxy, Grandfather," he repeats darkly, twisted smirk lifting his lips into a crude parody of the joyful grin that had once been Ben Solo's. "I'm following in your footsteps, as Snoke did; as _Luke_ should have. I'm doing everything I can to make the galaxy a better place for people, just like you did."

The look on Grandfather's face is so desolate Kylo can feel what remains of his heart cleaving in two.

 _why are you upset why aren't you happy why aren't you_ _ **proud**_ _of me you were supposed to be_ _ **proud**_

 _don't look at me like that please i'll do it right this time i promise_

 _ **don't look at me like father and mother and uncle**_

 _you were supposed to understand why don't you understand why why_ _ **why**_

"I don't _want_ you to follow me," whispers miserably between them, heavy and choked with tears. "I wanted you as far away from me as possible."

Kylo's smirk shatters like glass as Grandfather buries his agonized face into calloused hands, knees giving out from under him as powerful shoulders begin to quake with suppressed sobs.

" _What?!_ " Kylo wails, stricken and more confused than he has been in years as he stares in dumb fascination at the image of his Grandfather – the strongest Sith Lord in history – kneeling before him. "But you-!"

"Luke was the one who thought you should meet me," comes out from between scrabbling fingers, garbled and thick, but still audible. "But Leia- she wanted me gone, out of her life, out of _your_ life- she didn't even have to _tell_ me to stay away! I knew with me as a role-model, all you could ever be was _Vader_ and I _couldn't let that-!_ " What came out after that was something closer to an inhuman howl of pain, ragged and tormented and _guilty_ , so _guilty, more guilt and remorse than he ever thought it humanly possible to bear, as if the stars themselves looked down upon him with nothing but_ _ **accusation**_ _and_ _ **hatred**_ _in their ethereal eyes._

"But you spoke to me. When I was a child, in my dreams; you said I was the one who would carry on your greatest legacy," Kylo protests quietly, voice shaking; he doesn't realize he's crying until his eyes fill up so much his vision blurs into a kaleidoscope of pale blue and red and black swirling into nothing.

 _i don't understand, don't_ _ **want**_ _to understand_

 _i don't want this to be happening_

 _ **why is this happening this isn't how it's supposed to be**_

He wants a confirmation, a kind word, _something_ ; a sign that what he's saying is the truth and he's not as insane as he thinks he is.

But Grandfather shakes his head, blonde ringlets of hair swishing back and forth with the movement. He mumbles, "Not me, not me," and Kylo can feel his entire existence crashing down around him.

 _you're lying why are you lying_

 _it was you it was always you_

 _you with your Mask you with your breathing you with your_ _ **Darkness**_

 _you're lying lying lying why why why are you lying_

 _Grandfather_ _ **please**_

"If it wasn't you," rasps out of Kylo's throat even as he also falls to his knees, weak and impossibly small – like little Ben Solo all over again, surrounded by the senators and the pilots constantly clamoring for mother and father's attention, only with no Chewie with his mighty shoulders to sit on to make him feel tall and important and _needed_ – trying not to give into the earlier temptation to simply cast himself into the yawning chasm underneath them. "Then who was talking to me?"

Grandfather's heaving shoulders abruptly go rigid at the question, and even within his shock-numb mind Kylo can feel a slight chill descending down his spine as a swirl of utter _rage_ radiates from Grandfather's core. " _Snoke,_ " he realizes in a hiss, and the Darkness-

The Darkness is suddenly _there,_ encroaching on the pair of them eagerly, although it is clear that Kylo is not its main target; its attention seems to be completely riveted by Grandfather, whose shoulders are once again trembling, thought judging from the feel of him in the Force he isn't crying anymore.

Quite the contrary; he's _furious._

The scorching chaotic sandstorm of _hateragelove_ _ **hate**_ that is slowly but surely emanating from the man who most definitely did _not_ feel this much like a Sith Lord twenty seconds ago is impossible to escape; Kylo can feel his breaths coming in short, spurting gasps, unable to inhale fully as the subtle humming pressure in the Force that is his Grandfather abruptly triples in size and intensity with a near-audible crackling, like Force-lightning sizzling against a lightsaber.

 _This_ was the power Kylo has been seeking for half his life; _this_ is the power of Darth Vader, the greatest Sith this galaxy has ever known.

It's intoxicating, a heady rush of Dark, passionate emotions that make him feel more alive than he's ever been before.

But, he realizes as the crushing weight finally seals his throat and freezes his lungs, it's also _terrifying,_ and as he chokes wordlessly on nothing but _power,_ Kylo begins to wonder if such a horrible thing could ever be tamed, even by someone as strong as Darth Vader.

Evidently not; Grandfather finally seems to notice what's happening as his grandson audibly gasps for air and the Dark roils around him in perverse delight at his total lack of control. Jerking his hands from his face, Grandfather gives a wordless cry of dismay as the Darkness triumphantly surges towards him in a black tidal wave of evil, oh-so pleased to have its favorite plaything back in its hands where he belongs.

There is no shield to protect him this time; all the strength Grandfather had once used with barely a thought to drive the nightmares away now seems to have disappeared along with the Light that had once enveloped him in a shroud of love and happiness.

He most certainly would be overwhelmed and destroyed, and Kylo along with him.

Well, they would have been, if fate – or in this case, a well and truly forgotten Force-sensitive girl – had not intervened.

Rey.

Tiny, vicious, crafty, tenacious, _insignificant_ little Rey, who resisted Kylo's best rage-fueled attempts at interrogation like it was as simple as flying a speeder, appears like a savior-goddess called down from on high, leaping around Grandfather to crouch between the two of them, screaming at the top of her lungs and banishing the Darkness back to the void it crawled out from with a few clumsy swipes of a shining azure lightsaber she most certainly had not been wielding in their earlier encounter.

Grandfather completely collapses face-first onto the catwalk with an exhausted wail of relief.

Kylo finds himself bent over on hands and knees, gasping in great lungfuls of air as the Darkness and the pressure finally both allow him to breathe normally.

Despite the immense bliss simply inhaling and exhaling over and over gives him, Kylo pushes himself up again as soon as he's sure he won't go pitching over into the empty shaft below the thin metal walkway as soon as he moves.

When he is once again upright, he is not surprised to find the vibrant blue blade mere inches from his nose, the distinct hum of the wondrous weapon filling his ears as he let his eyes trail upward along the blades' length until they met with the eyes of the girl he'd tried so hard to break not even an hour ago.

Before, all he'd seen in her eyes was _angerfeardisgustdefiance,_ but now there is something else in her eyes, a most unwelcome addition; _sympathy._

 _don't look at me like that, scavenger scum_

 _don't look at me like i'm beneath you_

But her attention rather quickly shifts away from him. While one of the deadliest handheld weapons in the known galaxy stays trained mere inches from his face, her head turns enough for her to look over her shoulder at the weakly sobbing spectre she'd just rescued from eternal damnation.

"Thank you," Grandfather gasps, and that sends Kylo's blood _boiling_ , seeing this great deity reduced to groveling at the feet of some _scavenger._ She was unworthy to be in his _presence_ , let alone be thanked by him like a whimpering youngling she'd woken from a bad dream.

 _she is unworthy she is weakweakweak don't lower yourself to her level Grandfather you and i are better than she could ever be_

Too late, he remembers her rapidly strengthening powers in the Force; she casts a withering glare at him from the corner of her eye as the malicious thought slips across his nonexistent shields, but she says nothing at all to him.

Instead, the blade hovering beside his face suddenly disappears back into its hilt with a familiar _whish_ of displaced power, leaving Kylo blinking at the abrupt loss of light.

She seems to forget he's there for a moment.

Rey turns her back to Kylo in a very deliberate sign of disrespect to quietly crouch beside the badly shaken Chosen One, one hand lifted awkwardly as if wishing to comfort his quivering frame but completely clueless as to how to do so for an otherworldly spirit of the Force, let alone a normal human.

"You're welcome," she offers meekly, and her kind smile is so full of Light that any clinging shadows left in the vicinity are instantly vaporized like water left in the Tatooine heat. "Are you okay?"

The answer to that question is fairly obvious, and Grandfather's answering sardonic grin, small and jagged at the edges as it is, makes frustration and _envy_ pool into Kylo's stomach with a sickening pang.

 _he didn't look at_ _ **me**_ _like that_

 _filthy little sand rat what makes you so special?_

Inwardly seething, Kylo is not so distracted by the exchange that he does not notice the movement from behind where the pair crouches together on the walkway; his eyes widen as he realizes Rey did not come alone.

Han Solo, seemingly recovered from his near-stabbing and recent strangulation, hangs back at the end of the catwalk beside Chewbacca and FN-2187, staring at Kylo with an unreadable look on his face. Though he would never admit it, Kylo scans him quickly before looking away, unable to meet his eyes head-on as he should have.

FN-2187 stares in open, unabashed confusion; Chewbacca just looks furry and a bit angry, but seeing as that's how he usually is, there's no way to guess what the Wookie is actually thinking unless he starts roaring his opinion to the world as he usually does.

The quiet murmur of voices immediately snaps Kylo's attention back where it belongs, with Grandfather and Rey, each of them appearing to have completely forgotten about the world around them in favor of focusing totally on each other. Much like Grandfather had been focused on _him_ a moment ago, instead of speaking to this vermin not worthy of licking his boots.

"I believe this is yours?" the girl asks nervously, clearly unaccustomed to an audience listening to her speak, though she does an admirable job of maintaining eye contact with a man who very nearly went to the Dark Side right in front of her. She holds out the lightsaber in her work-roughened hands, and its-

It's _The Lightsaber._

It's _Grandfather's Lightsaber._

The Lightsaber Kylo has been scouring Bespin for so many years for, with only half-remembered tales of a fateful meeting, a fierce duel that came to an unfortunate premature end before Luke could be captured or Turned to guide him. Here, now, in the hands of some _child._

The jealousy reaches an all-time high as he watches a fond grin bloom into existence on Grandfather's face, eyes trailing from the weapon up to the girl's earnest, nervous smile with something like mischief glinting in the blue depths. "It _was_ mine, yes, but I'm afraid my time has passed; you didn't find it by accident, dear. It was looking for my successor, and it found _you._ "

Rey seems perplexed, but accepts the burden back nonetheless when Grandfather reaches forward to close her offering fingers around the weapon's handle once more, bequeathing what had been his life a long time ago to a new wielder.

A wielder that should be _Kylo,_ not some random _sand rat_ from a hellhole like _Jakku._

The covetous spike stabbing into the place behind his eyes almost sends him careening forward with a furious snarl, greedy fingers eager to snatch the prize from the wretched girl's tiny hands, but even the familiar, all-consuming anger is not enough to make him completely lose his senses; without his saber, all he would accomplish would be to get a hand sliced off in retaliation, and despite his love for his Grandfather, that is one experience he would like to avoid if possible.

Perhaps he's not as insane as mother feared.

No matter.

He _must_ have that saber, and he doesn't care how long it will take to get it; he _needs it,_ and no _scavenger_ was going to stop him.

The black swirl of his thoughts abruptly dissipates when Grandfather's stare shifts over Rey's shoulder, staring directly at him, a curious quirk of an eyebrow letting him know the man knew exactly what was happening inside his head. Kylo feels his face flush as he quickly raises his shields, but there's no helping it; Grandfather had clearly heard his thoughts on the subject.

"The lightsaber chose Rey," Grandfather said flatly, making the girl jump in surprise. "More importantly, _I_ chose her. It's rightfully hers now, no one else's."

Kylo grinds his teeth, but he can think of no rebuttal; the Force works in mysterious ways, and all that.

At any other time, he would have argued against such a firm statement, like he had with Uncle Luke for absolute ages when Jedi philosophy just wasn't making any sense, but all the old justifications he'd brought up seem absent now, unimportant.

Especially when the very basis of his entire belief in the Force has just been shaken to its very core and carelessly uprooted like a weed.

It had been Grandfather's words to him in his childhood dreams that brought him to this point, his wonderfully simple words and uncomplicated view of the universe that formed the framework of Kylo's entire existence as a Sith apprentice; it was those teachings that led him into the Dark and straight into Snoke in the first place.

 _and it was all a lie_

The rage he feels over simply not inheriting a lightsaber seems very inconsequential all of a sudden.

Confusion and despair twirl about in his head, and the effort to drive off the frustrated tears is astronomical, but he is determined; he will not cry, especially with the audience he seems to have earned himself. He could reveal such weakness to Vader, who would correct it as he saw fit; he would do no such thing in front of Solo or these strangers.

As badly injured as it has been already, he still has _some_ dignity left.

"I know how you feel right now," Grandfather's soft voice offers, his eyes more emphatic than they had been.

Still, the sneer Kylo graces him with is rather nasty. "I highly doubt that."

An hour ago, just the thought of speaking that way to his Grandfather probably would have sent him into cardiac arrest, but interestingly enough, Kylo really can't bring himself to give a damn right now.

So…

The man who had spoken to him, taught him, guided him, listened to all of his worries and nightmares all throughout his training with Uncle Luke, his teenage drama and complete uncertainty in the Jedi's teachings, who had corrected his behavior from that of a well-spoken Jedi Initiate to that of a worthy Sith acolyte…

The vision of Darth Vader who had so plainly spelled out the way the Force and the universe worked and had led him on the path that led to the place he was right now, on the cusp of destroying the Resistance for good and completely wiping the last traces of the Galactic Republic away from the galaxy forever…

None of it was real.

At all.

He didn't know the man who kneeled before him, who he had claimed as his patron god and rightful Master over even Snoke and his entire Order of Knights of Ren.

Kylo Ren had believed himself an expert – no, a true disciple of Darth Vader, and the Darth Vader he had worshiped for so long was a sham.

Kylo Ren did not know anything about Anakin Skywalker.

His mind raged against the very idea, at the absurdity-

 _this is a trick, a dirty, dirty trick_

 _that can't be true none of it is true_

 _Grandfather would not lie to us but this is Grandfather this isn't right none of it is right_

- _someone_ was lying, dammit, and it couldn't be Vader-

 _not after what he'd told him shown him trusted him to learn and do and_ _ **be**_

-not Vader, not him, he was the one who started him on his path, he couldn't be lying this whole time-

 _-but what if he was?_

That horrified voice, tiny but insistent – little Ben Solo, still trying so very hard to undermine Kylo's rock-solid beliefs – beliefs that had been smashed repeatedly with a lightsaber recently – somehow managed to drown out all the doubts and the queries and the pain, and for the third time in a row falling off the catwalk into the open shaft below seemed like the best option available to him.

 _Vader had lied_

 _Snoke had lied_

 _Grandfather had lied?_

 _i don't even_ _ **know**_ _Grandfather anymore_

 _i never really did_

 _do i even know_ _ **anything?**_ _anything at all?_

"You know your parents still love you."

The chaotic maelstrom of his mind lessens somewhat, the ache beating on his skull from the inside out slowly dissipating enough so that the haze overtaking his vision and muffling his hearing disappears.

He lifts his pounding head to stare numbly at the open, out of place smile on the scavenger girl's face, her sudden positivity seeming to surprise even Grandfather; but it is an act, of course. Friendly faces cannot exactly erase the fact that she's gripping her newly bequeathed lightsaber so tightly her hands shake. She is being _nice_ ; that doesn't make her a fool.

But her shaking hands and slightly empty smile do nothing to take away the meaning of her words, and Kylo is left to blink once, twice. Almost confused by the notion.

Grandfather seems to latch onto this confusion in a heartbeat. "She's right," he says, his own smile lighting up his features and returning his former mantel of Light to him as if it had never left at all. "Han was hoping to bring you home; Leia asked him to try. They aren't… They're upset with you, but they still love you, Ben. They still _care_."

"And how would _you_ know?!" The second the words are out, he almost flushes with embarrassment again; he manages not to, but only just.

Grandfather's face holds no admonishment, though his eyes suggest the words hurt a bit more than he'd like to admit. "I know exactly how this is going for you, Ben," he murmured softly, mouth firming into a line. "More than you realize, I _know._ "

And he most certainly did; just the feeling of bitterness surfacing within his aura was proof enough of that.

Kylo heaves a breath, light-headed and doing his ample best to ignore the impulse to burst into relieved tears; no crying. Not here. Not in front of So- _Father_ and these strangers.

 _Especially_ not in front of Grandfather, who has already seen enough emotional displays from him to last a lifetime.

The fact that he doesn't even know this man he had so readily bared his soul to makes his head spin out of control, so he does his best to shove that thought aside for now. He can break down later, but not now.

Now, he clambers to his feet, which takes a bit longer than it should – making sure he doesn't actually fall off the walkway is important – and Rey immediately follows suit, lightsaber still gripped tight but now in only one hand, to the side, as if to just hold it and not wield it defensively should he attack.

Grandfather simply watches them from his place kneeling on the metal, face expressionless but a tilt to his head Kylo is no longer sure he can read.

"You're leaving?" the question comes from Rey, before he even consciously decides that's what he's going to do; he sees Father start forward at those echoed words, something like alarm decorating his wizened features.

Kylo backpedals quickly; Father freezes in place. As do Chewbacca and FN-2187, who had been moving to quickly follow after him. The three of them practically piling into each other from behind would have been comical at any other time; now, it barely makes his mouth twitch.

Though he watches this ridiculous display out of the corner of his eye, his attention stays riveted on the man he has sworn his entire life to; the man he'd never gotten to know before today.

"I can't stay," he whispers, throat suddenly hoarse; admitting such a thing is so _so weak_ , not at all what a Sith would ever do, but Kylo does not feel like an all-powerful near-invincible Sith Lord anymore. But he doesn't feel like Ben Solo, either, and the depth of understanding in Anakin Skywalker's eyes nearly takes his breath away. "I can't go with them. I can't-"

Grandfather doesn't bother trying to convince him otherwise, just asks him the most important question: "If you leave now, this is a journey you cannot turn back from. You will face all the demons you handed yourself over to; you will see yourself for who you truly are. Are you sure you're ready for that?"

Kylo shakes his head helplessly.

"I need to know what Snoke did to me. I need to know-"

 _-if it was really him for all these years_

Grandfather bows his head in acquiescence; that silent admission was all he needed to hear.

Rey looks more reluctant, biting her lip and darting glances back to Father and the others at the end of the walkway. "You did a lot of bad things," she says plainly, as if announcing the weather. Kylo cannot resist the urge to snort, which gains him an ireful glare. "You deciding you need to go soul-searching doesn't erase that. I'll be looking for you."

"I expected nothing different from a Jedi," he snaps, and she looks so taken aback by the title that he almost laughs. Yes, untrained and unrefined, but a Jedi all the same. Uncle Luke would have loved to meet her.

He doesn't take his eyes off any of them as he backs away, using the Force to guide his steps, trusting it to not let him trip and fall to his doom so soon after the center of his universe had so quickly had its entire axis shifted.

No Stormtroopers meet him as he finally steps off the catwalk and begins running in earnest; they all likely left when it became clear their leader was having some sort of mental breakdown. This serves him just fine; he'd rather not explain anything to anyone at the moment. Right now, he just needs to find a ship that isn't the Millennium Falcon.

He doesn't know what will happen after he finds a ship; he doesn't know what he'll do once he gets off world.

The weapon is done charging, but with the charges the group had set and the X-wings whizzing around outside, it was likely that the base would not be here much longer.

Oddly enough, Kylo found that he didn't much care what happened to Starkiller Base anymore.

Right now, all that mattered was escape.

What mattered was finding answers.

The whisper in his ear held a note of warning, but also encouragement.

" _Remember, the Force will be with you. Always._ "

 _thank you Grandfather_

 _thank you Anakin_

* * *

 **A/N: HOLY JESUS ABOVE. IT'S DONE. IT'S FINALLY DONE! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, MY FIRST FIC OF THE YEAR, SOME OF THE BEST WRITING IN MY LIFE, THE THING I HAVE BEEN WORKING ON FOR LITERALLY A WHOLE DAMN MONTH. IS** _ **FINISHED!**_ ***flops to the ground and dies*  
… oh man I would feel so accomplished right now but I'm fucking exhausted. If the writing seems to become crappy at the end, that's probably why. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Tell me what you thought, and buckle up, cause sooner or later there will most likely be a sequel involved! Bye!  
~Persephone**


End file.
